Ne me jugez pas

I live in Morocco where black magic/witchcraft is also practised and I know the superstitiousness of many of my friends and acquaintances here. One friend who has been abroad and has modern tastes and ideas ran out of my kitchen once because I poured boiling water down the sink - he was terrified the sink demon would get us for burning him. A belief in magic is deeply ingrained in Arab culture despite the fact that it is haram in Islam. Even in the home of the Hajj, one of the former Saudi King's wives was a Moroccan and no one would cross her as she reputedly had such powerful spells.

So for Mo, despite being brought up mostly in the States, the fear and terror of superstition came bubbling up to the surface and affected his mental equilibrium.

Some of the supernatural scenes in the film were truly frightening and evoked a shiver down my spine. And as a love story between two Arab men, a powerful point was made that they harmed no one and that the religious zealots persecuting gay men and women are actually the evil ones.

I loved the part played by Hichem's mum. Mothers know their sons! Especially Arab ones.

As a film performed partly in the imagination, this was nonetheless convincing - my attention didn't waver for an instant.

I have one small quibble though. Not all of the Arabic dialogue was subtitled. I'm not at all proficient in Egyptian Arabic although my knowledge of Moroccan Darija helped somewhat. It was extremely annoying that I missed out on some of what people were saying.

That apart, I recommend this film.

The Judgment, by Marwan Mokbel, is much more than just a thriller. It's an exploration of identity, family, and the fear that comes with hiding your true self. The story follows a gay couple (Mo and Hisham) returning to Egypt to visit each other's families, and it captures the intense stress of navigating conservative households, where being yourself isn't always an option.

What really stood out to me was the unique use of witchcraft, motivated by homophobia, as a supernatural element. It felt like a clever way to show the fears and pressures queer people face, while still keeping the thriller aspect intact. But for me, the heart of the film is in the relationships between the sons and their mothers, where Mokbel contrasts acceptance and rejection beautifully. You really feel that he wanted to shine a light on the mother-son dynamic, and it's such a powerful portrayal.

Visually, the film is stunning, with Egypt as the backdrop adding a lot to the eerie, tense atmosphere. The acting was also on point, with both leads (Zahdi and Shahin) delivering strong performances. The Judgment really surprised me with its complexity. It's rare to see a queer thriller with this much emotional depth.

It's a nice movie, not what I was really expecting. I liked the movie overall but I didn't find the sinister/witchcraft part was necessary, it actually pulled me out of the movie many time. The movie could have been great if they didn't include that "I am an Egyptian based in Egypt"

I would really say that the last 5 minutes of the movie are priceless, worth the whole movie. That conversation between Mo and Hesham's mother is masterpiece. Such a beautiful lady and such a beautiful character.

The movie is a bit realistic by how the Egyptian society perceives homosexuality but that's not all Egyptians, I would have loved to find a representation for the Egyptians who accepts and supports homosexuality because they exist.

I would not have predicted that a screenplay that blends elements of a horror / supernatural genre film with a same-sex love story could work very well as either. But I was pleasantly surprised.

Set in Egypt though largely filmed in Lebanon. The picture is atmospheric and immersive. The scenes intended to provide tension are effectively filmed and provide the suspense expected in a horror movie.

The setting, in a repressive society, puts constraints on the romantic scenes which the actors skillfully handle. The dazzling Junes Zahdi plays the focal character, Mo, with finesse. I was not familiar with him and will be interested so seek out his other work.

When is something sinful, and when is it not? It's hardly a clear-cut matter; what someone might see as perfectly acceptable is utter heresy for someone else, despite the fact that the same issue is up for debate in each of those cases. And it's this question that's explored in writer-director Marwan Mokbel Elessawi's second feature outing about an Egyptian-American gay couple who visit the homeland to handle a family emergency and end up undergoing a frightening, unexpected supernatural experience. One of the partners, Mo (short for Mohammed) (Junes Zahdi), who has spent most of his life in the US and has had little contact with his family for years, is unaccustomed to the lack of tolerance he experiences compared to his life in America. Yet, despite sincere efforts to maintain a low profile, he soon discovers that there may be those who know about his "sinful" secret - and who seek to inflict evil deeds upon him for his allegedly wicked ways, experiences that prompt Mo to question his own behavior. But aren't those gestures perpetrated against him innately as evil as what he's supposedly guilty of? While these acts are served up in the guise of witchcraft, the narrative draws upon them as metaphors for the narrow-mindedness of fanatical religious fundamentalism. These incidents thus place the beleaguered protagonist in a position of having to assess his beliefs about himself and what's unfolding around him, issues that hearken back to his youthful upbringing and prompting him to examine his current behavior. The result is an admirably ambitious effort at exploring the key question raised above. Unfortunately, the picture doesn't address it as clearly as it might have. While this offering starts out strong and finishes well, it stumbles in the middle, getting caught up in an array of confusing story threads that go on too long and ultimately yield more muddle than riddle. Although the film provides a detailed look at the rites and practices of Egyptian witchcraft, there's a definite TMI quality about this that doesn't allow the narrative's symbolic elements to come across as unobstructed as they might have otherwise. I appreciate the sentiment that this one was going for, but it's regrettable that it didn't carry it off as well as it might have. It really is true that less can be more.